Arms of Morpheus
by Patcat
Summary: Bobby can't sleep


Arms of Morpheus

He was tired—so tired. He had never slept well; even as a child, real and imagined terrors punctuated his nights. In the army, he had perfected the ability to spring fully awake from the deepest of sleeps in a matter of seconds. His bed partners frequently commented on his restlessness between the covers, with one noting that he was the perfect companion until he fell asleep. But it had been a long time since he'd shared a bed with anyone—was it Amy, the sad eyed nurse, or Geri from accounting, or that lovely olive eyed girl whose name he couldn't remember—and he was so used to twisting in his sheets waiting for sleep and waking up several times in the night that he couldn't recall what it was like to sleep through the night. The sensation of sleeping more than two or three hours a night was so alien to him that the few times when he shut his eyes for four or five hours left him foggy and lost. And it was difficult for him to get even those few hours of sleep; he had to be in his own bed, with his own sheets and pillows and the window blinds closed tightly and the air cool, and he had to take a lukewarm shower to cool his fevered brain and loosen his knotted muscles. His partner had no such problems. Alex could lean her head back against the seat of the SUV or rest it against a console and be deeply, happily asleep in a matter of seconds and wake up needing only a quick sip of caffeine to achieve full consciousness. He knew that it wasn't that she was callous or insensitive—she suffered from the same nightmares he did—but she could escape into happy memories and reasonable hopes.

He lacked such memories and hopes. His sleep was haunted not only by his job, but by his memories, his fears, his intelligence. As much as he desperately wanted, he couldn't shut off his brain. He flirted with alcohol and drugs, but his terror of an addiction giving them an excuse to take him off the job kept those as only temporary, passing forms of relief. He tried exercising to the point of physical exhaustion, but discovered his mind refused to heed his body, and lately he was so tired that he couldn't even consider the possibility of working out. He'd even spoken to psychiatrists, but all of them seemed to threaten to take him away from his work, the one, thin thread connecting him to the world.

It was all too much. His mother, whose physical health was now declining almost as rapidly as her mental; his job, where the political pressures were combining with the emotional and intellectual forces to squeeze his brain; and the terrible loneliness and sense of failure bleeding through him.

They were starting to notice. The new captain treated him with horrible caution and care, as if he were some strange insect. Other cops and technicians always considered him strange, but now they studied him more closely and seemed less sure of how to approach him. Alex always worried about him, but now her comments about how tired he looked and how he should get more sleep or go on vacation were more insistent and concerned.

And then he made a mistake. Not a big one, not one that anyone noticed, but he knew and he knew it could have gotten him killed. Not only him, but Alex, who managed to notice what his sleep starved brain hadn't and saved both of them. And he knew that he was a danger to everyone.

"Get some sleep, Bobby," Alex said to him that night as she dropped him at his building.

"I will," he answered. He hesitated for a moment, his hand resting on the latch, and she looked at him carefully. "Thank you," he whispered. "I'm sorry I'm so much trouble."

Ignoring the traffic, she leaned towards him. "Are you ok? Do you want or need me to…"

He shook his head. "It's not your fault…it's never been your fault…I'm just so tired…"

His response didn't satisfy her, but she felt that she couldn't press the issue. "Ok, but if you need me, you call?"

He nodded. "Goodbye, Alex," he said softly.

He dragged his body to his apartment. He reached under his bed and pulled out the large steel box containing his important papers. He unlocked the box and methodically separated his and his mother's papers into piles; the work didn't take much time since most of the papers were already carefully filed and organized. He laid the papers on his bed, and returned to his desk. Using his computer, he created a list of the papers, with a brief summary of each, and printed out several copies. He found envelopes, carefully wrote the names and addresses of his lawyer and of his mother's doctor at Carmel Ridge, and placed a copy of the list in each. He placed the envelopes on his desk next to the computer, and returned to the computer to write a quick note of warning. He called his lawyer's office to leave a message, and then the building super's office with a warning and an apology. The last letter was the hardest. He wrote it by hand—a shaky, exhausted hand that struggled for its usual precision—on a yellow legal pad. In the end he could only write, "I'm so tired. Please don't blame yourself. I'm sorry." He tore the sheet from the pad, folded it, and slipped it into an envelope; he carefully printed "For Alex Eames Only" on the front and placed it next to the computer. It was past midnight, and no one was in the hall to see him tack the warning note to the outside of his door. He locked the deadbolt but left the chain off and strode to the back of his apartment. He removed his clothing, picked up his gun, and entered the small bathroom.

She stared down at Bobby. He was so pale, so still. His large graceful hands were motionless, one clutching his cap, the other resting on his chest. She wasn't used to those hands being so still, any more than she was used to seeing Bobby at rest. He looked horribly young and handsome in his police uniform—his only instructions had been that his body be dressed in his uniform and cremated and the undertaker had done a splendid job in hiding the wound—with his Medal of Honor around his neck.

"Oh, Bobby," Alex murmured as she tenderly touched his cold forehead. "I hope you can rest now."

END


End file.
